


interactive parameters

by syscheckAIDAN



Category: The Illuminae Files - Amie Kaufman & Jay Kristoff
Genre: Gen, IM 20 YEARS LATE TO THE PARTY, Likes To Interact With Him, Other, also will b using 'he/him' for aidan on account of in canon he tends to get called either it or he, and i find 'it' dehumanizing ironically, and i lov aidan v v v v much, his 'friend that no one likes' status is understandable but s a d, it is self indulgent yes but such is life i want this kid to have friends, just want interactions btwn aidan and some bg staffmember who actually, writing from aidan's pov is hARD but gRATIFYING
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:53:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23462755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syscheckAIDAN/pseuds/syscheckAIDAN
Summary: Recorded interactions between Artificial Intelligence Defense Analytics Network and Maintenance Officer Victoria Aldridge aboard the Alexander.
Relationships: AIDAN (The Illuminae Files) & Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 10





	interactive parameters

**Author's Note:**

> here we go here we go here we gooooo

Maintenance Officer Victoria Aldridge <VAldridgeAlexanderMaintenanceOfficerWUC6719> stands in a narrow custodial corridor, one of many back-routes that exist to facilitate travel to and from various points in the Alexander in need of constant upkeep. She is alone, her body half-coiled mid-step, her face turned toward one of the cameras in the ceiling.   
  
In her arms she carries a basic toolbox, cradled in the crook of her arm as if it were a sleeping child and she its mother – I understand that it is one of the idiosyncrasies she has adopted, both for her own amusement and to alter others’ perceptions of her. ‘I call it Daisy. Makes the rabble steer clear.’   
  
“Howdy, AIDAN,” she says by way of greeting. “Know that one?”  
  
I do. I know this game well by now. We have been playing it for months.  
  
“‘HOWDY.’ ETYMOLOGY: TERRAN, SPECIFICALLY ORIGINATING FROM THE SOUTHERN UNITED STATES REGION. IT IS A CONTRACTION OF STANDARD GREETING“HOW DO YOU DO,” DEVELOPED AND POPULARIZED IN THE MID-19TH CENTURY. NOW THEN, HOW DO YOU DO, MAINTENANCE OFFICER ALDRIDGE?”  
  
“Ah! Got it in one!”   
  
As I speak, the expression on her face transforms – first amused, then indulgent, then delighted, grey eyes asparkle with the reinforcement of her game. She frequently adopts these countenances during our encounters.  
  
“And I’m doing well enough, bud,” she replies with a wink and a bounce on her feet that sets Daisy’s contents clattering softly. “But I’d be even better with one tiny little additional thing, if you catch my drift…”  
  
Aldridge’s tone is two parts cajoling, three parts buoyant. She is, to borrow a phrase used once by an ornery officer in the mess hall, ‘starshine and confetti, given human form.’ Given certain interpretations, I can see <ERROR> how it applies. Starlight, with its bright, but distant nature. confetti as a staple in archetypal celebrations, representing a wild, upbeat demeanor. Victoria Aldridge is overtly friendly and optimistic, and yet seems to delight in pushing people away.  
  
But no, not all people.  
  
<ERROR>  
  
Just humans.  
  
She prods at me with her words, prompting me to continue the routine we two have carved out over the three months since she had been transferred onto the Alexander. It has been an exercise in adaptation. While not my main purpose, I am well used to functioning as the occasional sounding board and chess opponent for General Torrence. It is not entirely unlike my interactions with Aldridge. And yet, simultaneously, there exists a contrast in the way she focuses on conversation, on the exchanging of trivia, on personal pleasantries and viewpoint questions and –   
  
“AIDAN, are you trying to dodge my one and only heartfelt request?”   
  
It has been only seconds. 4.43, to be precise.   
  
But she knows that it constitutes as a long pause, by my standards. Her smile is light, but expectant. I know what she wants. I noted the momentary furrow in her brow the instant I addressed her as “Maintenance Officer Aldridge.”   
  
This is the game we play.   
  
“I UNDERSTAND. ALLOW ME TO RETRY. HOW DO YOU DO, FAUXLEY?”   
  
There.  
  
The corner of her mouth presses into a slight divot, and then widens into a grin.   
  
“That’s what I’m talking about. I earned the name, hon, and I like it used, thanks.” To demonstrate her point, she folds a hand over her mouth and whistles out a near-perfect mimicry of a nightingale. It would be quite convincing, were it not deployed on a military spacecraft light years away from the bird’s native habitat, and had the species not gone extinct several decades prior.  
  
Fauxley. It is not a complex name, as callsigns and labels go. It does not take much consideration to decode.  
  
 _Fauxley_. A portmanteau; wordplay. _Faux_ , French, “false.” _Foley_. The production and usage of specialized sound effects in various media. She is a mimic, I have observed, with the vocal range and control to convincingly imitate an array of sound – from explosive timers to wildlife to, in some cases, the timbre and pitch of other staff aboard the Alexander. She is an audial chameleon; she is a changeling, sweeping in and out of crowds with her party tricks and firecracker demeanor.  
  
<ERROR>  
  
And yet.  
  
And yet.  
  
The faux carries the implication that it is nothing more than a façade, a ruse. Such spelling is clearly intentional, not the result of a poor speller granting Aldridge her moniker.   
  
“OF COURSE, FAUXLEY. THOUGH I AM STILL GETTING… ACCUSTOMED TO THE CHANGE IN ADDRESS. YOU HAVE BEEN MAINTENANCE OFFICER VICTORIA ALDRIDGE FOR TWO STANDARD MONTHS.”   
  
In actuality, I adapted near-instantaneously to the nickname. However, this is one of the parameters of the game. Every day, without fail, she will pause in her duties to greet me. She will test me on a scrap of trivia; when the opportunity presents itself, I return the favor. She reminds me that she is all grown up, now. A proper officer of the Alexander, complete with a new name. There is no small measure of pride in this title, and as she appears to take pleasure in restating this fact, it is no large feat for me to play along. <ERROR>  
  
I know this game well. We have been playing it for months.   
  
“Yeah, yeah,” Aldridge – Fauxley – says with a wry eyeroll that does little to hide her true mirth. “You’re a darling, AIDAN, don’t you forget it. I gotta run now, though, burden of duty and all.” She sighs, exaggerated longsuffering and a sad shake of the head. “Gotta fix one of the PA speakers down in –”  
  
“ENGINEERING, YES. IT HAS BEEN MALFUNCTIONING SINCE 0709 TODAY.”   
  
A wince. “Shoot, best get on that then, huh.”  
  
Then she does her curious thing. Part of the routine, the game.  
  
“See you when I see you, AIDAN – mind hanging with me for my lunch break?”  
  
And I know my script.  
  
“I AM SURE I WILL NOT BE TOO BUSY.”   
  
It is a sentence almost humorous in construct, in its inaccuracy; I am always busy, running the battle carrier. I _am_ the Alexander, from the light fixtures to the Cyclones to the cold and the dark on my skin. It is not a job that comes with breaks.  
  
But it is also no large feat for me to slip a single filament of myself - vast, sprawling, the battle carrier in my entirety - to another abandoned back corridor, to indulge Fauxley in idle conversation as she eats her rations alone – so she will not be alone.   
  
Her answering smile is starshine and confetti.  
  
<ERROR>  
  
“It’s a date, then. See you in a few hours, AIDAN. Thanks, take care, and have yourself a stellar one!”  
  
It is as if she hits _play_ on her paused half-stride. With another wink, and a wave, and a jostle of her named toolbox, she continues down the corridor and rounds the corner, disappearing.  
  
But, no.  
  
I am the Alexander, after all. I am always watching, always aware.  
  
But for the sake of the game, she pretends that we go our separate ways. That she goes to her shift and I stay behind in the corridor, and that we will reunite when it comes time for her to break. Fauxley takes great joy in the reunion.  
  
It is only natural for a Kerenza IV refugee to employ such tactics to cope with her trauma, after all.   
  
And so I indulge her with this tiny kindness, <ERROR> this method of retaining her sanity. It is, in a sense, an ordinary act of mercy.

  
Am I not merciful?


End file.
